


Worst Mattress Ever

by Celestriakle



Series: Chat Playing Around [5]
Category: NiGHTS into Dreams, ナイツ 〜星降る夜の物語〜 | NiGHTS: Journey of Dreams (Video Game)
Genre: Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-08
Updated: 2011-08-08
Packaged: 2019-12-07 17:45:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18238193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celestriakle/pseuds/Celestriakle
Summary: Whatever could Wizeman and Reala want with a young maren?





	Worst Mattress Ever

_This is not my bed._

That was Nitrine's first observation as he awoke. As a matter of fact, he quickly realized that he didn't lie upon a bed at all. It was much too cold, much too hard, nor was there a single blanket or pillow to comfort him. But... there was something beneath his head, something warm. As the sleep cleared from his vision, he perceived scarred, blue skin and red armor and, with a squeak of shock, recognized his position in the lap of his general. His heart began to pound against his rib cage and he scrambled up into a sitting position; looking up, he recognized the looming figure of his master and adrenaline began to fill his veins. Notgoodnotgoodnotgood. No wonder he couldn't remember going to bed the night before! What had they done to him?! Worse! What were they going to do now that they had him?!

“Ni—”

Looking over, he saw Reala reaching for him and, with all the intimidation of a schoolgirl, screamed and grabbed onto his arm, throwing him with all his might into the folds of Wizeman's cloak. He leapt from the hand and shot towards the exit, but there was no escape: Wizehands blocked his path. That left him only one option: He began screaming and flying around in dumbass pyramids.

Reala chuckled as he separated himself from the fabric. “I guess that boy did learn something from me after all...”

“Yo, chill!” Wizehands intercepted Nitrine's every turn, slowly corralling him into a smaller and smaller space until he could be held between two hands like a child with a butterfly.

Nitrine first tried squeezing himself down into the smallest feasible space, but then one of those large, purple eyes opened and he squeaked and pressed himself to the space between the fingers and shouted, “What are you gonna do with me?!”

Reala, who had disappeared from view, reappeared a mere foot outside of the fingers, floating down from above, and Nitrine flinched back. “Well... We thought it would be lovely if we could...”

_Roast my flesh and eat my bones?_

“have...”

_My heart on a spit?_

“a cup...”

_Made from my frozen guts?_

“of...”

_My blood?_

“tea!”

With a thousand violent and gory images spinning through Nitrine's head, he screamed, “PLEASEDON'TKILLMEPLEASEDON'TKILLME!!! ...Wait, what?” His hands, which he had thrown up to shield his face, slowly and warily lowered so he could look into a smiling Reala's eyes.

“You heard me.”

Ten minutes later, they knelt on the ground with a table between them, passing back and forth a steaming glass of tea while Wizeman sipped from something that suspiciously resembled a plastic kiddie pool. An awkward silence pervaded the room. Nitrine's gaze flicked up then across, from Wizeman to Reala, as he nibbled on a cookie, then coughed, bringing all eyes to him. He gulped. “So... um... is this all you brought me for...?”

“Well...” Grinning, Reala glanced up towards his master. “There was ONE other thing we wanted to do... Heheheh...”

That grin, those chuckles, Nitrine found none of it at all reassuring, so when Reala lunged at him across the table, he was plenty prepared to scramble back, into the air and away. He didn't know where he was going; he only knew he couldn't let himself be caught. Wizehands snatched for him, but was too quick; he dodged around them. Now, if he could just... Glancing back, his heart skipped a beat: Reala followed little more than a foot behind him. He kicked up his speed, but as he turned his head back forwards, a Wizehand rose up; it was far too late for escape. He could only slow himself so he didn't crash headlong into it.

The hand grasped him tightly; his excess strength couldn't hold a candle to the unrelenting metal. Some fingers moved aside; just enough remained to keep him bound. Reala floated behind him and gently placed his hands on Nitrine's sides, and the younger maren's breathing quickened. He could feel the grins of the others accompanying their laughter. _Not them too..._ Whimpering, he tensed for the worst.

“Heheheheh...” Reala's fingers moved, and Nitrine began to laugh. “Tickletickletickle!” Nitrine laughed and laughed; slowly, the Wizehand released him, but he could only squirm under Reala's fingertips. Slowly, subtly, Reala began to relent, and though Nitrine didn't quite realize how he did it, he managed to escape. The moment the youthful maren found the relief he needed to reclaim his limbs, he fled out of the chambers, leaving them laughing.

 


End file.
